Lovebugs: a lovestory

As I perambulate the pool every hour on orders from my surgeon and my mother, I’ve noticed that our backyard has become a haven for horny lovebugs.

They flock by the thousands to the grass and low-hanging plants on the perimeter of the pool, and scurry across the deck with very important business in mind. I got really low to the ground so I could overhear what they were saying:

LB#1 (Maurice): “Hey baby, where you goin’? You lookin’ mighty fine.”LB#2 (Alex): “I’m a dude, dude. What the fuck?”Maurice: “My bad, my bad. We all look the same with our red heads and black asses. Hope you get lucky tonight!”Alex: “Yeah, no problem. I got a sexy piece over by the slide who said she’d wait for me.”Maurice: “Run, Forrest, run! Heh heh.”

A new lovebug runs by. Maurice approaches cautiously: “Umm, hey, are you a chick?”LB#3 (Jenny): “Hell yeah I’m a chick. What the fuck do you call all of this?”Maurice: “Calm down, calm down, jeez! Don’t get your ugly-ass panties in a bunch!”Jenny: “Hrmph. Go fuck yourself, loser.”

Maurice looks a bit desperate now. With sweat rolling down his brow, he spies a much heavier lovebug waddling by. He’s willing to go for it: “Hey baby, I bet you got a sweet pussy just waiting for some lovin’!”As LB#4 gets closer, it splits into four separate lovebugs: “Are you fucking talking to us?”Maurice: “Shit!”LB#4, 5, 6, and 7 swarm on Maurice and beat him up. “Good luck dying alone, loser.”

Maurice lies in the gutter, one leg twitching. “All . . . I wanted . . . was . . . some love.” he gasps.LB #8 (Rachel) approaches: “Um, hi.”Maurice (weakly): “Hi.”Rachel: “Are you going to be okay?”Maurice: “I think so. I just don’t want to live this short lifespan without meeting the right person, you know?”Rachel: “I know what you mean. Here, let me help you up.”Maurice: “Thanks, sweet tits. Umm, I mean, ma’am. What’s your name?”Rachel: “Rachel. You?”Maurice: “I’m Maurice.”Rachel: “It’s nice to meet you.”Maurice: “I know this might be forward of me, but we don’t have too long. Would you like to permanently link our asses together so we can have lots of lovebug babies?”Rachel: “That sounds very nice. I’m glad I met you, Maurice.”Maurice: “Me too, Rachel. Me too. I can’t wait to see our first group of babies. They’re all being named after you. Rachel, Rachella, Rachelo, Rach, Rachie, Racharino, Racheleriffica,…”Rachel giggles: “Oh, Maurice.”

Man. You’re so fucked. Killing those little guys is apparently akin to stepping on the wings of an angel. Or so I’ve heard. A nun told me that once when I accidentally flipped her the bird (soooooo accidentally) (yes, I know ‘the bird’ Goose). But I’m pretty sure murder and flipping the bird to a chick who has a DIRECTLINETOGOD means equally fucked.

Those things are called love bugs?!!! I’ve squashed many of those things – they’re disgusting!
Also, Maurice was a tool, and Rachel obviously had some issues, so I think you did them a favor.
Glad you can perambulate the pool. :lmao:

if this really happened i am concerned that the bugs don’t think of themselves as insects: Maurice: “I think so. I just don’t want to live this short lifespan without meeting the right person, you know?”

I don’t believe you. I think you picked them up and moved them to a safe place, where their love could flourish.

I hate fuckbugs. Mostly I hated cleaning them off the front grill of the car. Gag.
We don’t have those in Seattle – that’s one of the best things about living here. Very few bugs. No roaches, no june bugs, no fuckbugs. Just the occassional spider large enough to pretend it’s a cat with 8 legs.